


Friend

by Maker_of_Rune_Vests



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Canon Divergence - The Lord of the Rings, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 22:30:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11746491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maker_of_Rune_Vests/pseuds/Maker_of_Rune_Vests
Summary: This is Lord of the Rings canon divergent fanfiction, about Sméagol. Credit to J. R. R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema.





	Friend

Sméagol loved Master more than I loved the Precious. The Precious betrayed Sméagol. Master, never. Gollum tried to jump into the nasty fire after the precious, yes, but Master saved Sméagol. Now Sméagol is free of Gollum. Gollum can’t be in the Shire, oh, no.  
The garden used to be a good place for Sméagol, full of wriggling wormses and fat greasy little snailses, but now Sméagol can’t go in the garden. Sméagol is cold, and must lie near the nasty fire. But Master has put up a screen so Sméagol doesn’t have to look at it. It looks like the fire that burned my Precious.  
Today Sméagol is lying near the fire waiting for Sam to leave. Sam is a fat hobbit who doesn’t like Sméagol, but Master says Sméagol must be polite to him, so Sméagol pretends he is not there. Master will come talk to Sméagol when Sam leaves.  
Sméagol doesn’t like pillowses. Sméagol would rather lie on the floor. But Master thinks that is false and gives poor Sméagol pillowses. They are nasty and fluffy and taste bad. Master also makes Sméagol wear a—a nightshirt. Yes. That he what he calls it.  
Sam is leaving. Sméagol is happy. Master is coming to talk to Sméagol! “How are you this afternoon, Sméagol?” he asks, smiling at me.  
“Very nice, Master, very nice,” I say.  
“I’ve been thinking, Sméagol, that you should not call me Master now; you’re free.”  
No. Oh, no. Heart breakings and light fadings, no! “Master does not want Sméagol?” I clutches his jacketses.  
“No! I didn’t mean that,” he says, and poor Sméagol cries because Sméagol is happy. Master pats my arm. “I only mean that you aren’t my servant,” he says. “You could call me Frodo.”  
“Oh, no!” I says. “That would not be respectful, no.”  
Master smiles like Smeagol has made him want to laugh. “Mister Frodo, like Sam?”  
I shakes my head. “Sam is—Sméagol does not like Sam. Sméagol will not do what Sam does!”  
Master sighs. “I’ll think about it,” he says, and somebody knocks on the door, and Master starts to stand up. But Sméagol holds on to his jacketses. Sméagol has had an idea.  
“Sméagol call Master ‘Friend’?” I asks.  
And Friend smiles at Smeagol and says, “Yes, you may call me that.”


End file.
